It was six days later and a lot of "Mom are we getting some more toy catalogs?" before I saw any effort to get toy catalogs, and then it was mom asking one of my aunts if 'when they were done with their catalogs', could we 'borrow' them. I don't want to borrow them. The catalogs are now 'used', they have been looked at, they have toys marked in them, and worst of all , they were my cousin's catalogs. A lot of the things I had, were hand-me-downs from him...so No! Not the toy catalogs. Besides, if I picked a toy he had already selected, I would be copying him or wanting that toy simply because that is what he wanted. I couldn't let that happen. In the past, if I wanted a bicycle, he got a new one. His old one would be repaired and painted then given to me. I wanted a new baseball glove. He got a new one, I got his old one. He would wearout his wranglers, patches were put on the knees and they were given to me. The same with shirts and shoes. I was given some of his jockeys (tighty whiteys) and I refused to wear them. I had to draw the line somewhere. I was drawing another line with the toy catalogs. I would have my own! It was a rare occurrence in my life, but I won. One of our neighbors was telling my mom that she was taking her daughter to Sears & Roebuck in Shelby to go shopping, and I heard my Mom say, "could you bring us back a catalog. Ours was damaged and I threw it away." My heart almost leapt out of my chest.'yeeesss!' I was getting a catalog, just for me! Then just out of the blue my Mom said, "I have to go into town today and I think I'll stop by Western Auto, and pick up a catalog there also." WHOA! I thought my wildest dream had come true ! I almost broke into a little jig right there on that porch. Later that afternoon, Mom came home with an un-read, un-looked-at Western Auto catalog. A little while later I heard a knock on the door. It was Betty, the neighbor girl, and she was holding a Sears & Roebuck catalog. I heard her telling my Mom that her Momma said the catalog was for us. I ran to the door, I said "hey Betty," grabbed the catalog, ran to my room and locked the door.
I was to the serious point of Christmas now. Selecting the toys I wanted Santa to deliver Christmas Eve. I was hold up in the bedroom determined I was not coming out until progress was made. I was already behind on my selections and that was going to cut into negotiation time. This was now down to the nitty gritty. Mom called, "Suppertime, Paul." Oh, gee. "Uh Mom, could I eat in my bedroom? I can clean off the table in here and I'll clean up when I'm done." I was hoping she would go for that deal. "Okay." Mom called back. Great, I'll save some time. First round selection was underway and since I had no previous opportunity to peruse the choices, I was having to 'wing' it through this round. I was starting to breath faster. I had to slow down, I didn't want to hyperventilate. (You didn't think a kid knew what that was, did you? ) I was also sweating profusely. Calm down, I whispered to myself. Calm down. after all, this is just the first round.
Mom knocked on my door. I opened the door just wide enough to take the food and drink, no words were spoken, I simply nodded my head, and shut the door quickly, and locked it. A short time later, my sister Becky beat on my door. "I'm trying to finish the dishes, give me yours or bring them to me or you will have to do them yourself." Holy crap, I can't stop. I'm in the middle of round two now. I just added to the selection a model rocket that you loaded with fuel, launched it, and it would fly 100 feet in the air. I can't stop now. The stress was beginning to manifest itself as I lost my temper. "Get away from that door." I yelled. "Momma, he's screaming at me." Becky said as she began to cry. " Paul! What is wrong with you?" Mom called to me. I cleared my throat, and tried to speak calmly. "Nothing Mom. I'm sorry. I'll take care of these dishes." Then speaking a little quieter, "Now get away from my door, you little witch, before I bite your head off and spit down your neck." Becky screamed and squealed as she ran away from the door.
Love the comment! Seems like you and I "write on the same page" so to speak. Thanks Again and have a blessed day, also abandoning all political correctness, Merry Christmas.
PJ
Since I was a twin, I learned how to share very early. Letting my brother read everything before I did, helped prevent his tantrum… Guess that's why he's so materialistic today. My memory of Sears and Roebuck catalogs was it they made good toilet paper in outhouses. While you were taking a dump, you could look at the pictures of ladies in underwear and you know what that meant.
As soon as my sister was old enough, Roger and I no longer had to wash dishes. My sister greatly resented that and insisted on getting first read on anything that came into the house. Sharing was my life in those days, but I didn't have to endure hand me downs thanks to that designer brand… JCPenneé. ;-)
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